An Unusual Portrait
by luckily
Summary: Grimmauld Place is never as it seems. Written for the Overcoming Rivarly fest on Livejournal.


Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine. I'm just abusing the characters.

A/N: Written for the Overcoming Rivarly fest on Livejournal. Any and all mistakes are mine.

Hermione was, in a word, bored.

The War had ended a few years back and after all the excitement that followed she was left feeling a little listless.

There wasn't much she wanted to do. Sure, she had been offered countless job offers but none had offered that same thrill of excitement she had felt in the War. Not that she wanted another war but she wanted something different than the regular dredge of her life.

Ron was off being a Quidditch player for some team. Was it the Cannons? She could never remember. She made a mental note to look it up again. She had pinned the name to her bulletin board.

Harry was making his way around the world. He was done with England he had told her shortly before he left. He wanted to find out what was out there. Hermione regretted declining his invitation to go with him.

So, here she was in London working a Muggle bookstore. She didn't know what she wanted to do with her life and that feeling was a bit frightening to her.

All around her, her old classmates were having jobs that they loved. They were living their life. She just felt like she was stuck.

Living at Grimmauld Place was certainly not helping her any either.

Hermione agreed to take care of the place for Harry but now she wasn't sure what she was thinking at the time. It was a free place to live but that was the only good thing about it. It was dark and gloomy and no amount of cleaning charms and spells could remove the feeling in the house.

After two years of living there she was successful at removing all the heads that adorned the hallway. She had gotten rid of any dark magic that the Order had missed and for the most part it was clean and void of any House Elves. Well, Dobby still came by every once in awhile but Hermione made sure he was well taken care.

But now was the greatest task she had ever faced. She was going to remove the biggest thorn in her side since Draco Malfoy.

Mrs. Black's portrait.

She had come up with a spell that could remove any permanent sticking charm and it was genius if she did say so herself. The Weasley twins had offered her quite a bit of money for their use of it. She was considering of taking them up on it.

She grinned at Mrs. Black who shrank into the corner.

"This is going to be fun."

She pulled out her wand and for a split second she savored in Mrs. Black's fear. Serves that old witch right. Up until Hermione moved in for good she had to endure a constant verbal abuse from this hag. But Hermione made herself quite clear that she was very handy with a paintbrush and bleach if it came to it.

And for a while Mrs. Black did not even utter one word of abuse. But when Draco Malfoy heard about that the painting he had insisted that the painting belonged at Malfoy Manor.

Hermione was all too pleased to get Mrs. Black off her hands.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Black," Hermione said her voice soothing, "You'll be going to a nice home where all your relatives live. No Muggle borns or anything like that."

With a quick swish of her wand the painting fell down with a boom. Hermione could hardly hear Mrs. Blacks screams of outrage.

There was a door behind the painting.

"Shh..." Hermione hissed at Mrs. Black before casting a silencing charm on her. That'll hold her for a little while, she thought.

She eyed the door curiously. Knowing the Blacks, it was probably filled with dark artifacts and other questionable things.

With one more glance at the door, she levitated Mrs. Black and Apparated out of the house.

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Needless to say, Hermione's curiosity had been piqued. She loved to know everything. Harry and Ron often cursed her insatiable curiosity. Not that they had been any better, she thought ruefully.

She ran a couple of scans over the door making sure that it wasn't booby trapped. The door didn't look very menacing so she couldn't for the life of her figure out why someone would want to hide it so bad.

Maybe there was a long lost treasure in there, she smiled at that thought.

She picked up her shoe and threw at the door.

Well at least it didn't explode on her.

She tried a couple of other spells that would detect if there was dark magic on the other side. But it always came up negative.

What would be so important to hide under a permanent sticking charm?

Hermione couldn't take it any longer. She jumped to her feet and grasped the knob. She checked herself out to make sure she hadn't broken out into boils or something more unfortunate. The people who had done it most likely thought that no one could break it.

But they most likely never met anyone like her. She was stubborn, if nothing else.

She tugged at the door and it swung open easily. It was dark in there. She peered cautiously into it making sure that nothing would come out to attack her or hex her.

Okay, she thought, so far so good.

"Lumos," she said.

"Oh for Merlin's sake! Put that blasted thing out."

She dropped her wand and jumped back. There was someone in there? She was stunned. Mrs. Black's portrait had to be on there for at least twenty years. How could someone survive in there?

"Who's in there?" She ventured closer to the doorway. She couldn't make out any forms but it was exceptionally dark in there. She kneeled down to pick up her wand. Slowly her eyes began to adjust to the dark.

She heard someone huff impatiently in the dark. This was getting very bizarre.

"At least you could come out. How long have you been in there anyways?"

"I can't come out. I'm a portrait. Who are you anyways? What are you doing in my house?" It was deep voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

"Sirius?" she asked blankly.

"Yeah right," he scoffed.

She crept slowly into the dark careful not to light her wand. It was a sparse room with only a portrait in the center.

The man in the portrait had dark hair that fell down beneath his eyes. He looked annoyed and familiar. The name was on the tip of her tongue.

"Regulus," she gasped.

"Are you going to stare all day or you are going to at least take me out," he replied smartly.

Hermione knew that she looked dazed; this was completely unreal. She levitated him out of the room all the while listening to his moans about the light hurting his eyes. He had his head buried into a pillow.

She snorted at that. It was a bright red pillow with a Gryffindor lion.

"What are you laughing at," Regulus moaned into his pillow. He was cranky at being disturbed.

"Your pillow," she said brightly. She propped his portrait up against a wall. He rubbed his eyes a few times before seeing what she was laughing at.

"Oh yes. Terribly funny," he said sarcastically. After he had adjusted to being in the light again he looked around curiously.

"So, who are you and what are you doing here?" He asked.

"Hermione and I live here." He bolted up at that.

"This is the Black family house and I don't think you are a Black."

"No," she said smiling a little at him, "But my friend inherited this house and while he is out wandering the world I am taking care of it for him."

"Inherited? How long have I been in there?" Regulus looked aghast at this piece of news.

"How about twenty years, I think," Hermione said. She pulled her hair back and fully looked at Regulus for the first time. He looked to be about her age. Hermione recalled Sirius telling her that Regulus died shortly before he was to turn nineteen.

"Why did they put you in that room?" Hermione asked. That question had been bugging her for a bit.

Regulus shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know. My family is rather into torturing each other. Maybe they thought I would be safer in there. I highly doubt it as I was already dead. So what happened to everyone else then?"

"Sirius died several years back during the War. Your father died shortly after you did. And you mother," Hermione's mouth curved at that, "Died maybe fifteen years ago. I just removed her portrait…"

"Which is how you found me," he nodded as if all the pieces had just come together, "is the war still going on?"

"No, it first ended a couple years after you died but it started up again around five years ago and ended two years ago."

"It looks nicer in here," he said abruptly, "where's Kreacher?"

"Dead," Hermione said coldly. He raised an eyebrow at her tone but said nothing.

"You're sure you don't know why they put you in that room? It seems a bit extreme if there was nothing to hide. But they put another portrait on that door with a permanent sticking charm. It seems a bit much if you ask me."

"Well, no one asked you," Regulus bit out.

"Easy there," Hermione said raising her hands. She glanced at her watch and grimaced, "I'm going to be late for work." She glanced around the place, "I would tell you not to get into trouble or anything but I hardly doubt you'll cause any chaos or mayhem." She left leaving Regulus scowling at her back.

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Usually she loved going to work. She never liked to stay at the house for a very long time. The house never failed to bring her down. But now she was very excited to return. She knew that Regulus was hiding something. Hermione would never stop until she figured it out. Her coworkers noticed the bounce in her step.

"New man," asked Sarah, her closest friend since Hogwarts. That stopped Hermione in her tracks.

She laughed a little at that, "No, not really more like new roommate," she said thinking of Regulus sulking in the dining room.

"Really," Sarah peered over the pile of books she was carrying, "I'll have to meet him."

"I don't know he's really shy. He's not much of a people's person. But I'll try to talk him into it."

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Regulus was studying his fingernails when she came back. Hermione wondered what he did in the room for twenty years. She would have gone mad but maybe portraits didn't bore so easily.

"What took you so long," his petulant voice starkly reminded her of Draco.

"It's called work. It's what us common folk do," she teased him lightly.

She set down some take-out on the table and pulled up a chair.

"So who put you in that room?" Hermione asked.

"My parents. Does it really matter?" Regulus was staring at her funny.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, I just haven't seen food in a really long time." He shook his head and went back to studying his fingernails intently.

"I don't understand why your parents would put you in that room. It makes no sense. Was it because of the Horcruxes?" Regulus looked startled at that. "How do you think Voldemort was defeated?"

"Look," he said finally, "it's really complicated and now entirely screwed up. I don't really want to talk about it with some girl that I don't know."

"That's true. You don't know me but I know you. But I am also very curious and it would really be in your best interest to tell me now because I am very good at getting information out of people," she took a sip out of cup and looked at him patiently.

"So tell me more about what happened in the War?" Regulus was very curious at happened. She had mentioned that the war had already ended a couple years earlier if that was true then something had gone wrong.

"Well, there are two parts of the war the first half and the second half. The first half occurred when you were alive." He nodded at that. "That part ended on Halloween of 1981. Voldemort was brought down by a one year child, Harry. Yeah, that was a big shocker for everyone. There was more to it but basically Voldemort disappeared and everyone assumed he was dead. He sort of came back my first year of Hogwarts. He was after the Philosopher's Stone which was naturally at Hogwarts. That whole thing was a joke."

Anyways, at that point he was nothing more than a shadow of his former self. He came back here for two purposes to get a new body and to kill the boy that led to his first downfall. He tried every year to attempt that. And every year Harry defeated him," she blew softly on her tea.

Until my fourth year that is," she fiddled with her fork for a second, "That was the year he succeeded. He got back his body. But he didn't regain power until a year after that. That in-between year," she shrugged, "a lot happened namely Sirius was killed. But the year after was when Voldemort really came out in his attacks," she looked up at Regulus, "we found out about Horcruxes and you that year. R.A.B. You're famous in the Order. Most of this I learned from Harry. I really wasn't privy to the information until the year later. Harry, Ron my other friend, and I left school to find the remaining five Horcruxes. Long story short. We won and Voldemort was defeated for good this time."

"There's a lot you're leaving out isn't there?" Regulus leaned forward. Hermione stirred her glass and looked lost in her memories.

"I could write a whole series and never really tell the whole story," she frowned into her glass, "Now you're turn."

"I didn't really die."

"What!" Her fork clanged against her plate.

"You see that was the thing. I had this whole plan worked out. Completely foolproof but of course something goes wrong. Or everything goes wrong."

"Explain," Hermione said tersely.

"All right… You see after I had switched lockets and that was after I fled from the Dark Lord. I knew I was a dead man. I also really didn't want to die. Not yet, anyways. I wasn't even nineteen. That would be cruel. Crueler if I was a virgin," he hurried on after Hermione glared daggers at him, "My parents had already commissioned a painting of me but we all decided that until this War had ended…I would be…" He looked hesitant at the next part, "I am in the painting. They cast a spell on me to magically lock me into the painting until Voldemort died. The permanent sticking charm wasn't really that. All these spells were interconnected but of course something failed as I wasn't released as planned."

"You're telling me that you really aren't dead but somehow locked in a painting that was hidden behind a door for twenty years." Hermione couldn't believe this. It was almost too far-fetched.

"That's the genius of it though; I was put in an enchanted sleep so when I woke up it wouldn't be that long at least to me. So when you opened the door the charm went off. It's why I was grumpy because you woke me up," Regulus stretched his legs out, "but something went wrong and now I am trapped in the painting."

"Even little children know that you shouldn't meddle around in things like this. It's dark magic, Regulus. No wonder it doesn't work," Hermione said crossly.

"Not dark magic just old magic. It's complex. Both my parents had to cast it."

"Regulus didn't you learn anything from school? Old magic isn't a constant thing. It's erratic. It doesn't always play nice like the magic today. And there's always a catch in there somewhere. You are pretty much caught in time. You could be released anywhere from today to in a hundred years," Hermione couldn't believe that even Regulus's parents didn't know this or hadn't remembered it. At least it made sense as to why Mrs. Black put her portrait up there and why she was always screeching. She didn't want any one coming near Regulus.

"Okay, I'll write some letters. See what I can come up with," Hermione shook her head at Regulus's predicament. She would have thought that someone in that family would have some sense. Apparently not.

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Not a single person knew what to do. She had contacted nearly everyone she knew. Read every book on the subject of paintings. She had no idea where to start as Regulus was hazy on the spells and charms used.

Regulus might just have to get used to being a painting, she thought. To be fair to Regulus, he had taken it all in stride. Dozens of people have come by to see him. He had been poked and prodded. Spells have been cast. He had been turned over. Someone thought they could force him out that way. All to no avail.

When she told Ron about it he just laughed and said it would be good for her. It didn't even faze him to learn that Regulus was still alive.

After a month of living with Regulus, Hermione decided to stop worrying. If it happened. It happened. It certainly wasn't bothering Regulus any. And Hermione had gotten used to having Regulus around. He was entertaining and he loved telling her stories about his Hogwarts days along with some other stories.

They never once broached the subject of the War. As Regulus had said it was far in the past and nothing he ever wanted to worry about again.

It was a fluke, really, how it happened. Hermione had been sitting next to Regulus on the floor, joking about something that neither of them could recall later when Hermione had inadvertently brushed up against Regulus's canvas. Only she didn't touch any hard surface. She touched him.

They stared at each other in shock for a few moments neither really trusting what just happened.

"Take my hand," Hermione said suddenly. Her hand stung as she reached into the canvas. Regulus took her hand and she pulled.

She yanked him right out of the portrait. Breaking it in the process.

They both sat stunned on the ground. Hermione couldn't believe it. Regulus just sat there staring at his hands and then at her. A huge grin broke out across his face.

He leapt up and grabbed her. He twirled her across the room, laughing.

"I can't believe it," he gasped, "I really thought I would be in there forever." He picked her up again and swung her into his arms.

A sly smile crossed his face and he bent down and kissed her.

The rest they say is history.

_Fin_


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